Holding My Soul Together
by whitesheepcbd
Summary: This is set the night following "Don't Speak" in The Break-Up episode. Could be subtitled, Five Times Kurt Wakes Up that Night, and One Time He Doesn't.


He wouldn't be able to hold this position much longer, but he couldn't relax. To ease the grip he held across his own body, to let his arm relax and fall to his side, meant that he might touch _him_. And he couldn't let that happen. He remembered, all too well, what happened when their bare skin touched. Even just fingertips (…..a touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets….) would initiate a surge of energy traveling up his arm, like a circuit being completed, and he could not, would not, _must not_ let that happen now. Because to allow that connection would be to risk opening his heart to Blaine again, because that's what he did, had done for over a year, and how was he supposed to stop? A single declarative sentence (…..I was with someone….) wasn't enough to turn off his feelings. Just enough to make him wish he could.

So he lay there stiffly, his arm wrapped like a tourniquet around his chest trying to hold his heart in. (…..holding my soul together…..) And telegraphed with his body, don't speak, don't move, don't reach out because it would break me right now. And when finally, Blaine did move, it was only to roll away from him and he didn't know what to feel as he rolled away himself and reached for the light.

* * *

_Blaine's arms wrapped around him, being able to nuzzle closer and breathe him in. No need to worry about parents walking in on them, because they were grown now, and it was their first night in New York together. They could finally fall asleep together, wake up together. And in a few months, Blaine would move here. They would have all the time in the world to explore the city, see all the sights, go to the theatre, walk through the park holding hands…_

Kurt jolted awake, disoriented for a moment. He was curled up against Blaine, who had his arms around him. They were in his apartment in New York. It was just like his dream…..so why did it feel so wrong? They'd gone out last night and had fun, right? Blaine sang to him at Callbacks (….just one touch, now baby I believe….) then they walked in the park. Where Blaine told him (…..I was with someone….)

He jerked back from his boyfriend's (ex-boyfriend's?) embrace and then stilled, trying to scoot away slowly so as not to wake him. But Blaine mumbled in his sleep and tightened his arms, pulling Kurt closer again. No, no…..NO. He managed to wedge a hand up between them and pushed hard at Blaine's chest, shoving him away and trying to ignore the beating heart under his fingers. Hazel eyes fluttered open.

"Wha-?" He blinked in the dim glow of the streetlight coming in through the window. "Kurt?"

"Don't touch me," he ground out through gritted teeth.

"What's wrong?" Blaine mumbled.

"Oh my God. You don't even remember."

He sees it, the moment when Blaine's brain clicks on. When his face rearranges into the expression of apology he'd worn since his confession earlier tonight.

"Kurt…." He reached a hand out, slowly.

Kurt slid back further, then sat up to wrap his arms around his raised knees. "I said don't touch me." The hand fell, and they were silent for a moment, allowing Kurt to hear the far-off sirens and honking of horns that never seemed to stop here. "It's our first night in New York, Blaine. We've been talking about it almost since we got together. It was never supposed to be like this." He fought to keep his voice steady and only halfway succeeded.

Blaine sat up as well. "What do you want me to do, Kurt? How can I fix this?"

"You can't. Not unless you build that time machine you talked about, and use it for something other than high-fiving Bryan Ferry."

Silence again for several breaths, exaggerated to Kurt's ears when he felt like he was waiting to hear…what? An explanation? An apology? Blaine flopped back onto his pillow.

"Do you want me to leave?" Blaine asked softly. "I'll call a taxi and go back to LaGuardia tonight. Maybe I can fly standby on the first flight tomorrow."

A part of him was tempted. That was how much Blaine had hurt him, that he'd actually consider throwing him out in a strange neighborhood. "It's the middle of the night, and it's not the safest neighborhood. Wait till the morning."

Steeling himself, Kurt settled back onto the mattress, careful to stay on his side of the bed. Lying on his back he stared up at the ceiling, knowing without looking that the boy next to him was doing the same. He tried to focus on his breathing, on relaxing one body part at a time, but seemed like hours before his eyes started to feel heavy again.

* * *

Was this what prehistoric men had felt like? Lying in the darkness, fearing what was out there in the night, all the wild creatures that could be coming to rip them to shreds. They learned to make fire and carved spears to protect themselves, and somehow kept the human race going long enough to get to now, to this time when electric light staved off the darkness and so many dangers had been tamed or caged. But fears still lurked in the shadows, and what was modern man to do when the one who could rip his heart out was asleep beside him?

Kurt slowly stretched out one hand under the covers, till it was close enough to Blaine to feel his body heat. His fingers burned with the impulse to touch, wanting nothing more than to have bare skin under his own, while at the same time repulsed by the idea of touching him right now. (…..I was with someone…..)

What did that even mean? How had this other boy, whatever his name was, touched his boyfriend? How many privileges that had previously belonged to Kurt, and only Kurt, had Blaine given away to someone else?

He turned over onto his back and stared into the oppressive night, waiting waiting waiting for oblivion to overtake him.

* * *

"Kurt. Kurt, wake up!"

The voice finally penetrated and he opened his eyes. Blaine leaned over him, one hand stroking his chest soothingly.

"Are you okay? You sounded like you were having a bad dream."

"I don't remember the dream," he rasped out, his voice a whisper. "But I do remember what happened in the park tonight." He grasped Blaine's wrist and threw it off himself.

Blaine's face was shocked for only a moment, then he nodded. "OK, I deserved that."

"Oh you deserve so much more," Kurt retorted, now fully awake.

Blaine drew away, slowly lying back down again. The silence stretched out between them. Finally Kurt spoke again, his voice just a whisper.

"You promised, Blaine."

Silence for a moment, then the soft reply, "What did I promise? What do you remember?"

"What is this, a pop quiz?"

"Just tell me…what do you remember?"

"That you would always love me," he whispered into the dark. "That you'd defend me, bake me cookies, and kiss me whenever I wanted. And you promised to always pick up my phone calls, so matter what you were doing."

"But for me to keep that last promise, you have to CALL, Kurt."

"I did call you! All the time!"

"At first you did," Blaine answered in a small voice. "But gradually it was less and less. And then when I called, you were the one not picking up."

Kurt stayed silent, remembering the few times he'd ignored Blaine's calls. There hadn't been that many, had there?

"Do you remember what you promised? That day in Miss Pillsbury's office, when I was freaking out over you coming here, and leaving me alone?"

"I know. I promised I'd call and Skype you every day. That we'd be visiting each other all the time."

"Yes. And you promised that I wouldn't be alone and that I wouldn't lose you. But I did lose you, Kurt. Little by little, and I just couldn't stand it."

"So you cheat on me?" He finally raised up on an elbow, turning toward Blaine in the semi-dark. "How was that supposed to make anything better?"

Long pause in the dark. "I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking."

Kurt turned away at that, rolling on his side. How was it that they were here, together, in the city of their dreams, yet he'd never felt more alone? (…looks like a solo tonight…) He tried to keep his tears quiet but knew he was only halfway successful. The sniffles he could hear from the other side of the bed told him that he wasn't the only one.

* * *

The floor of the bathroom was freezing. He wished he'd thought to wear socks to bed, or grab them on his way to the bathroom. But he'd been focused on getting to the sink so he could splash water on his burning face, wash away the stickiness of dried tears. Blaine was still passed out when he rolled out of bed, oblivious to his departure. Of course he was. He threw himself into sleep with the same abandon and commitment he did everything else. Once he was out, it took a marching band to wake him up. Kurt had been surprised when Blaine woke up twice tonight, which told him that his boyfriend wasn't sleeping as soundly as usual.

Once, he'd fallen asleep half-dressed on Kurt's bed after a makeout session, and then his dad had come home early and in his panic Kurt shoved Blaine off the bed in a last-ditch attempt to rouse him, after every other attempt had failed.

Still seated on the bathroom floor, he smiled to himself at the memory of the look on Blaine's face, which rotated through shock, indignation, brief anger, and then horror when he finally understood what Kurt was saying to him. "My dad's downstairs, get up and get dressed, now, now!"

He even laughed a little to himself, remembering…till the reality of his present came crashing down on him and he found himself holding in a sob. The memories only hurt now, please would they stop? (…..pretty pretty please…..)

His toes were going numb. He pulled himself off the floor to leave, stopping in the kitchen to check the time. 4:13. That godforsaken hour when only small crying babies, drunks, hospital staff and the heartbroken would be awake. He considered spending the rest of the night on the couch. But he knew the couch wasn't comfortable and besides, they hadn't yet stocked the apartment with extra blankets. Resigned, he made his way back to his bedroom and crawled under the covers, fighting the impulse to scoot closer to Blaine and take advantage of his body heat. Instead he balled himself up as tight as possible, tucked the blankets around him, and waited for sleep again.

* * *

The next time he woke to find himself spooned around Blaine, he wasn't even surprised. On some level he'd expected it, that in sleep, with his guard down, he'd find his way back here where he fit so well. (….my missing puzzle piece…..) He stayed where he was for a moment, trying to determine if Blaine was still asleep. Reassured by the regular movement of the chest under his arm and the laxness of the body he held, he let himself melt closer. Allowed himself to breathe in the familiar scent one more time, to let his lips rest oh-so-lightly on the back of Blaine's neck. Then let the tears fall silently, giving in for just a moment more before he forced himself to ease away, leave the bed silently in the weak predawn light bleeding in through the window. He didn't look back at the bed as he pulled clothes out of his dresser, not caring what he put on. He didn't look because he knew he'd just want to crawl right back in, wrap himself around this boy who was and would always be his first love, but he couldn't allow that right now. He walked away to get his first cup of coffee, and sat down to wait.

* * *

Blaine woke when the sunlight coming in through the window hit his face. He immediately turned to look at Kurt's side of the bed, but it was empty. He'd been hoping to wake first. He thought maybe he could start cooking breakfast, have Kurt's coffee ready for him when he woke up. He didn't care if it was seen as a lame clichéd attempt to get back into Kurt's good graces, as lame as the flowers he'd brought last night. He just felt like he needed to do something to chip away at the wall he'd put between them. If they sat down to breakfast together, maybe they could start to talk. (….talk about it somewhere only we know….)

He lay still for a moment, listening. He couldn't hear any noises that indicated anyone else was up, but Kurt had to be out there somewhere. With a resigned sigh, he threw back the covers, shivering in the cold air outside the bed, and tiptoed to the curtain to peek out.

At first he didn't see anyone across the wide expanse of the warehouse-like apartment. He stepped out, wondering if Kurt had gone out for something, when he saw him.

He slumped sideways in the chair, his knees draped over one armrest. His head leaned forward against his chest. An empty coffee cup rested in his lap, his fingers wrapped loosely around it. Tiptoeing closer, Blaine could see the redness around Kurt's eyes, the puffiness of the face that he took such pains to care for. God, he was gorgeous, even marked by tears as he was. Blaine loved to watch him sleep, the few times he'd had the opportunity. Would he ever get that chance again? Had he screwed up their relationship beyond repair? He reached out and slowly eased the cup from his hand. Kurt shifted, and turned another degree into the back of the chair but didn't wake up.

He looked exhausted, and Blaine felt horrible knowing that he was the reason. He vaguely remembered being awake a couple times last night. Had he offered to leave in the middle of the night? He thought he had. But Kurt had said wait till the morning, and it was morning. Should he just get his bag and go? Did Kurt even want him here, would they be able to talk if he woke up now or would seeing the boyfriend who cheated on him just cause him more pain?

Suddenly the thought of facing Kurt was unbearable. He could always call him when they'd both had a couple days to calm down. He backed away slowly, went back to Kurt's side of the apartment and dressed quickly. There wasn't much packing to be done, he just shoved the pajamas he'd worn last night into his bag and zipped it up.

Still moving quietly, he picked up his shoes and headed across the room to the door. But he stopped before getting there, backtracking to where Kurt still slept. He couldn't help himself, he just had to look at him again before he left. Kurt's lips were parted slightly in sleep and Blaine almost gave in to the impulse to wake him with a kiss. Instead he ran one hand oh-so-lightly over his hair, not even enough pressure for the sleeping teenager to feel it, then forced himself to walk away. (….this could be the end of everything….)

The sliding door's rollers were loud in the stillness. He forced himself to step through, and pull the door to behind him, before leaning down to put on his shoes. He started down the stairs, one hand on the banister and the other on his chest, as if his heart would fall out if he didn't hold it in.


End file.
